


The tragedy of Hope

by Darsynia



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, F/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-13
Updated: 2007-07-13
Packaged: 2017-10-04 11:45:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darsynia/pseuds/Darsynia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A missing scene from Season Four's Commencement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The tragedy of Hope

**Author's Note:**

> NOT a story to read if you haven't seen the show's first four seasons--major spoilers.

He had been glad for Leo's excitement, because his own was tinged with too many conflicting emotions (some of which, he admitted, was terror) about the upcoming birth—_births_—to feel completely genuine. The White House Chief of Staff had been completely fascinated about the idea that a couple could choose the birth date of their children, and when Toby had looked around at his co-workers, he'd been slightly ashamed to see the pure happiness and anticipation that he didn't feel. It wasn't that he didn't feel happy, and he was looking forward to the event, naturally—but those sentiments were easily overcome by his many worries, not the least of which was his own fitness as a father.

Again, Toby asked himself if he was reading too much meaning into the fact that he was more emotional about the house he'd bought for Andie than about the fact that the two of them were going to be parents within two weeks. In the time since he'd made the impulsive purchase, he'd managed to convince himself in brief moments of clarity that he was simply trying to provide for his children by giving them a safe and spacious place to live. If by doing so he was also giving the woman he loved something she'd wanted for years, well, that could be seen as an added bonus, couldn't it?

It never really worked, though. She'd wanted it and he he'd bought it before she could even find out that it was for sale—not because he wanted to surprise her, but because he'd seen it as his last chance to prove himself to her before their children were born. When he was honest with himself, Toby admitted that his motives were, as they say, less than pure, but love was war and he always had relished a good fight. Strange, how his arguments with Andie during their marriage had been quick and usually vicious, unlike their current style, which was more along the lines of a siege than a firefight.

The two of them never really analyzed why they worked so well together when they weren't anything official to each other. He would show up at her door with takeout from the place she loved that wouldn't deliver, and she would show up at his with chicken, spices, and a devilish smile. It was only thanks to his long years of practice in multitasking that the meals at his place were in any way edible with her watching him cook, but somehow that extra level of tension made everything seem sexier, even though when they had been married and she'd asked him to make dinner, it had been a chore and an inconvenience.

There had only been one time in their entire relationship that they'd had sex _during_ a fight. It had been in August, and they had both been hot and grouchy. Toby still wasn't sure why he'd gone over to her apartment that night—it wasn't for sex, that was for sure; they hadn't done that for months—but when she'd seen him at the door, she hadn't said anything, she'd just walked away from the door and left it open. The building's air conditioning wasn't working, and he remembered that the heat was stifling, and Andie had been wearing trousers and a long-sleeved shirt. He'd commented about it, she'd retaliated with something about his own wardrobe, and after a few minutes of shouting, she'd simply begun to take off her clothes.

Then, a few months later, Andie had told him she was pregnant.

"A March baby," he'd remarked after the initial shock had worn off.

"Do Capricorns make good parents to Pices children?" Andie had teased. Her mother was into astrology, though she herself wasn't, and Toby (predictably, he'd always thought) didn't get along very well with his ex-mother-in-law. At the time, he hadn't risen to the bait, much to her disappointment. However, that conversation turned out to be more significant than either of them had thought at the time, when they had their first sonogram and discovered that she was carrying twins—and that she wasn't as far along as they'd thought. Their violent anger had achieved what had seemed impossible during their marriage, and Toby's initial worries about being a father had been magnified tenfold.

Andie knew he was unsettled, he could tell… but how do you tell the mother of your children that you're afraid that your babies will somehow _know_ what you're worried about? That they'll be able to read on your face that you weren't happy when you created them… It didn't help that the President was on edge about giving the commencement speech at Zoey's graduation; Jed Bartlet was proud of his youngest daughter, but Toby could tell that he also mourned the idea of losing all dependency his children had on him.

It seemed to Toby that it was a month of fateful decisions, the kind where you reach a fork in the road and choose a path, the kind where the other choice is blocked off forever. He just hoped that Andie would stop pushing him away and say 'yes.' It wasn't easy to tell an emotional, heavily pregnant woman that marrying you would make sense politically, financially, morally, and—oh, by the way, romantically. She knew he loved her!

His beeper went off; he'd asked Ginger to page him five minutes before he should leave to pick Andie up. Toby gathered up his keys, coat, and, most importantly, the key to Andie's new house, and made his way quietly out of the building. The familiar feeling of adrenaline coursing through his veins occupied his thoughts as he navigated the busy streets of D.C. He felt the same way he usually felt before a State of the Union—everything would depend on his wording, his approach, his diplomacy. Everything felt the same, except in this situation, the consequences would weigh on him, not his boss.

She was waiting outside for him, and he parked quickly and jumped out, worried about how long she'd been standing, ashamed that he was a little angry at her for doing something that might possibly make her uncomfortable and moody.

"Hi," he said, his nervousness telegraphed by his every movement, intensified by the unhelpful voice in his head that repeated 'don't blow it' coarsely in his ear every few seconds.

"Hey," she said gently, reaching out for his arm rather than forcing him to reach for hers. It was a simple gesture, but it calmed him greatly.

"It's not far," he assured her after she was safely settled in the passenger seat.

"I still have no idea where we're going," Andie said, a bit plaintively.

"Don't worry," Toby said, granting himself the luxury of a rare smile and a glance toward her during the long red light. "You'll love it." He gripped the steering wheel with growing confidence, finally allowing himself to look forward to Andie's reaction on seeing the house she wanted so much, rather than worrying about the conversation that would follow.


End file.
